


The Thrills of Breathless Indignation

by orphan_account



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Anal Sex, Assassin's Creed III, Assassin's Creed Kink Meme, Begging, Breathplay, Charles has serious control issues, Charles you mad bastard, Community: asscreedkinkmeme, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fem!Connor - Freeform, Forced Orgasm, Gender or Sex Swap, Het, Kink Meme, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rough Sex, Triggers, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Whipping, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2187360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Multiple Trigger Warnings.</b>
</p><p>Assassin's Creed Kink Meme Prompt. Charles always assumed Connor was Haytham’s <i>son,</i> considering the damn assassin lay such siege to the Order in two short years. So when word reaches him that an assassin woman was arrested along with Hickey and is currently locked up Bridewell,  Charles goes to investigate for himself...and discovers so much potential for a new pet. That she is the Grand Master's daughter makes his conquest that much more thrilling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is rated Explicit for language and sexual acts. It also has multiple triggers for heavy non-con, drugging, bondage, light whipping, breathplay and general issues of control. Charles is one twisted, kinky bastard. Seriously, you have been warned. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an express train to hell I’ve gotta catch.

“Leave us,” Charles briskly ordered the guard after the soldier dumped the unconscious figure on the cot in the empty cell of Bridewell. Located on the top floor of the prison, it was one of the most comfortable in the building. Also, one of the most private. Fresh, fragrant rushes covered the floor. The cot even contained a thick, clean mattress, crisp sheets, a spotless, dark-colored quilt and a couple of thickly stuffed pillows. Funny, how a handsome bit of coin could bribe one into getting most anything they wanted. “I shall deal with our guest myself,” he dismissively waved at the guard.

The other man froze. Adam’s apple nervously bobbing at the twisted expression gleefully painting Charles’ face, he opened his mouth in protest. Unexpectedly, the sound of a bag of coins hitting the floor at his boots met him. "For keeping your gob nice, and most importantly,  _shut,"_ Charles sneered.

"Oh...well that's uh, generous," the guard grabbed the coins. Judging from their weight in his palm, it felt around six months’ salary or so. "So, uh, what be your plans for the prisoner?" he leered, leaning against the doorframe.

"That coin makes it no damn concern of yours," Charles ordered while pulling off his leather gloves and removing his great coat. Unbuckling his swordbelt and baldric, he placed them on the table in the dark corner of the room. “Now,” he snit, “It is time you disappear from my sight!”

"Come on, look here, mate-!" But when the other man cast him a murderous look of warning, the guard backed off. "Ehrm, pardon me, sir," he swallowed. Snatching up his musket, he skittered from the room without a word.

Rolling his eyes and slamming closed the wooden and barred cell door behind him, Charles stuffed its key into his pocket. He then strolled to the bed and leaned over to take her in. The rays of light from the full moon spilling in through the large, barred window above the cot provided plenty of illumination. The flames of the fire licking up from the grate sitting at the opposite wall helped as well.

That she was a woman was now obvious. It also made her constant foiling of the Order’s plans that much more shameful. Hickey’s guffaw as they upgraded him to a better cell in Bridewell that very afternoon didn’t help. Nor did his open acknowledgement that they evidently weren’t as brilliant as they all thought they were. The chit already murdered Johnson and Pitcairn. She and her growing team of scoundrels also neutralized another handful of their agents in Boston and the surrounding frontier. In the span of only a couple of years, no less. So Hickey wasn’t exactly wrong, no matter his irritating little smirk of drunken gratification.

 _Wot?_ he shrugged, squaring his burly shoulders. Sauntering up the steps leading the richer section of the prison, he waved in dismissal,  _Even I can appreciate a bit ‘o talent. Shame she aint all allied up on our side, eh? We could use someone with ‘er skills, I’m just sayin’. She ain’t half-bad lookin’, neither._

 _You’re even more of an imbecile than I thought humanly possible,_ Charles ground out. Watching as Hickey strolled into his new cell, he snapped,  _One would think you an admirer, what with your simpering._

 _Simply fact is, I ain’t blind,_ Hickey cocked his head to side.  _And I sure inna fuck ain’t lookin' to go cuttin' off me nose to go spite me face. That just be a dumb-fuck sort 'o plan._

 _Shut-up, you bloody lout!_ Charles ordered, slamming the cell door behind him.

 _Just make sure you don’t go lettin’ her escape again,_ Hickey snorted,  _Or old Haytham will go havin’ yer arse. And not in the good way,_ he lewdly winked.

Their conversation occurring but a few hours ago, Charles swiftly made his decision. Any brute could kill. The absolute victory lay in the breaking of the spirit, which only a true genius could ever hope to achieve. Simply put, teaching her solid lesson in obedience would go a long way towards slaking his vengeful thirst. Not to mention, it would prove  _most_ diverting.

“Perhaps it is time to see how dangerous you really are,” he declared to himself

Judging by how she suddenly shifted, she was coming to. Well, that wouldn’t do. At least not in her current state.

Shoving her over to lie on her back upon the cot, Charles swiftly relieved her the red sash she used as a belt for her trousers. He then used one end of it to bind her wrists together in front of her. Pulling them above her head, he trussed the other end to the topmost metal bar of the headboard. While she was secure, there remained plenty of slack to maneuver her. He briefly contemplated also tethering her feet to either end of the bottom of the cot. Then again, he needed her able to have a wide range of movement for what they were about to undertake. He also toyed with the idea of gagging her…no, hearing her eventual acquiescence would be half the entertainment.

Palming his dagger for a moment, he briefly contemplated using it as well.  _Too easy,_ he wickedly grinned to himself. Besides, he didn’t wish to let his temper get the best of him at what would no doubt be the woman’s initially defiant ramblings. And there were all sorts of other ways to skin the proverbial cat. Ones that proved far more entertaining. Flinging it away, it thudded point first into the wooden table behind him on which sat his other weapons and clothes.

Shrugging out of his frock coat left him in his waistcoat and tunic. Rolling up his shirtsleeves to the elbow, he untied the long, white cravat from around his neck. Spun of expensive, finely woven silk, it slipped with familiar ease against his fingers as he wound it into a complicated knot. He admittedly wouldn’t need it for a while. So he draped its wide loop over the bottom bed frame, saving it for later.

Crossing his arms, he allowed himself a pleased sigh at his handiwork. Scraping a chair across the stone floor from under the table, he set it to the side of the bed. Now, all he had to do was wait for her come to.

* * *

Connor’s eyes fluttering open, the first thing she noticed was the dry, sandy feeling of her mouth. Then then was the warbling headache throbbing across her temples.  _Drugged,_ she sniffed to her herself,  _Someone must have drugged my supper._

During the staged fight in the courtyard to get the key for her escape, she’d incapacitated a half dozen prisoners. As well as a solid chunk of guards. Ferociously biting into one of their hands, she broken another’s arm in two places, ran a third’s head into the brick wall, broke a couple of noses and then knocked out the sixth one’s front teeth with a well-placed haymaker punch. While they took the butt of a musket to her head for her efforts, no one went near her again. That’d been three days ago. The opportunity to carry out the second phase of her plan and gain access to the warden hadn’t quite panned out yet. Hence she had no reason to suspect anyone tampering with her food before tonight. She had to eat, if only to keep her strength up.

“Greetings, Connor.”

“Lee!” she snarled at the familiar voice echoing from somewhere to her right. Not recognizing the cell as the space she'd occupied for the last fortnight so, she moved to leap off of whatever she lay on. That was until she felt the odd way in which her shoulders were angled. Swiftly realizing her wrists were trussed above her, she let out a rumble of annoyance. Then again, she’d learned the intricacies of all sorts of knots aboard the  _Aquila_. Considering she still lived, he obviously didn’t wish her dead. All it would take was distracting that bastard for a bit. Then she’d be out of this in a matter of minutes.

Ending his life with her bare hands would only be an added bonus to escaping.

Taking a deep breath and focusing on loosening her bonds versus the flames of indignation shoving through her thoughts, she grit, "How did you get into Bridewell? Where are the guar-?"

“They have no domain over you, now,” Charles cut her off, eyes burning dangerous, glacial blue in the moonlight slanting in the through window above her. “You should be rather proud of yourself,” he drawled, “Considering how much it took to bribe them for a bit of private time with you. You certainly don’t come cheap.”

She said nothing, save muttering under her breath. “If you’ve something to say,” he drawled, standing up from the chair, “Then I suggest you do so aloud.” Leaning over and gripping her chin, he forced her to meet his incensed gaze.

Narrowing her eyes, she reeled off something rather insulting in her native language. It’s all he could presume, judging by her accompanying smirk.

That certainly wouldn’t do.

Save her head twisting away at the impact, she barely reacted to his smack across her cheek. In truth, he was testing a theory versus aiming for any serious harm, at least for now. She didn’t make a sound at the contact. If anything, her eyes blazed with ruthless hatred. Cheeks flushed, her full mouth was locked into a thin line of disdain. Yet she refused to look away as he raised his hand for another slap. Instead, she only grinned again and repeated whatever it was she earlier relayed.

“Your tongue is sharp, assassin,” Charles scoffed, pausing mid-swing and leaning forward so that his words huffed along her nose. “All the better for when I rip it from your mouth with my blade.”

“And so I shall be rendered a mute killer of you, Templar,” she spat, balling her bound fists, “What ill misfortune, though your ilk should be thoroughly used to such by now-”

The ring of his second smack across her face echoed in the air. Unfortunately, it dulled in comparison to her primal growl of fury as she bashed her forehead into his skull. A tick lower and she would’ve broken his nose. To be honest, he had absolutely no idea how quickly she could move. The next thing he knew, he was stumbling backwards. Vision swimming and teeth clattering, his ears rung with the collision. He barely dodged her follow up kick to his crotch. While he twisted his hips away from it, a snap of pain flashed up his side. To his vexation, he was unable to bite down his stunned yelp at how, despite being tied down, she contained enough skill to re-aim the kick into his ribs.

“You do not own me, Lee,” Connor brusquely retorted. Without a hint of hesitation, no less.

 _And so it seems this one is not so easily daunted…yet._ “To the contrary, madam,” Charles sarcastically huffed, swallowing down the ache seizing up his ribs and rubbing at the bruise starting to bloom across his forehead. No matter, she would pay for those later. “No one even knows you’re here. Those that do have been bought. Now turn over,” he briskly ordered, unbuckling and pulling off his dragoon boots and stockings, “It will make it easier to strip you of your livery.”

Her eyes widened, giving Charles her first flash of distress. Yet she growled, “How  _dare-?!”_

“If you are hiding a succubus’ form beneath your livery, now would be a wise time for your revelation,” he sniffed, fingers suddenly gripping her shoulder. Her flinch at his action caused a pleased shiver to course down his spine. Still, her gaze remained locked with his. So he made the decision for her.

It took more effort than he liked to avoid her brutal flurry of kicks as climbed on the cot. The vigorous twisting and rearing of her lithesome form only added to the inconvenience. Nevertheless, his superior weight combined with her restricted mobility won out, allowing him to finally snatch off her trousers. Straddling her thighs, his hands fell to front of her tunic. The flash of his dagger he’d pulled from his boot did nothing to apparently scare her. She didn’t even flinch as he cleanly sliced through her the fabric from her neck to navel. Cutting at armholes, he ripped it from her in pieces. It revealed her stays laced over her chemise beneath. Cutting away the front lacings and shoulder straps of her stays, he took distant appraisal of her bosom. Nothing very extraordinary, though her breasts had a supple perkiness to them that could be appreciated.

“Not a complete disappointment,” he intoned, wrenching the stays from around her torso and hurling them over his shoulder. Now, she remained only in her chemise and knickers.

Overall, she stood taller than most women and lacked much in the way of curve. Yet her limber body proved a deadly instrument. Honed by what he assumed were years of training, dense muscle flexed under hot, dusky skin. Despite her male clothes and general air, she kept her deep brown locks surprisingly long. Her tight braid hit her mid back, a duo of eagle feathers pinned into the top of it. He should also have realized she was her father's child long ago, when he first glimpsed her on the rooftops attempting to foil the Boston tea incident. Their identical, straight noses, carved jaws and pointed chins were obvious. He could only suppose that her sharp, freckled cheekbones, plump lips and high brow were the products of her mother. Her big, brown, heavily lashed eyes retained overt hints of her father, though. It was made even more evident with their vicious promise of violence reflected at him.

“If you at least endeavored to dress like a civilized woman rather than some feral, filthy child of woods, you could be half presentable,” he sarcastically said, moving off the bed to stand next to it.

“You colonists are all the same,” she barked, stretching against the binds of her wrists in another infernal attempt at escape, “Constantly degrading those who seek a different way of life.”

“To the contrary, assassin,” he scornfully countered, unbuttoning his waistcoat, peeling it off and tossing it onto the table, “I only concern myself with the barbarians who insist on refusing to become productive members of a clearly superior society. Oh, how I shall treasure your defeat," he leered.

“Torturing me will have no effect,” she grimly set her jaw and braced herself.

“I have no doubt of that,” he shrugged. “Which is why it shall require much, much more to achieve my ends,” he pulled his tunic over his head, revealing himself.

The corded strength of his arms, his broad shoulders, the sharp curve of his chest and defined lines of his abdomen met her. Lightly furred with black hair, he bore a few scars. The silvery cut of a bayonet crossed his left pectoral. The round indentation of a bullet along the top, meaty part of his shoulder. The scrape of four slices on his lower right side, likely from some animal getting too close for comfort on the frontier. A scattering of stiches from various, minor injuries. Admittedly, she realized her disbelief at the firm muscle or marks of battle was displaced; he was a field soldier after all. Carrying on the legacy of his father’s profession in the British army, he was a veteran of the Seven Years War, a former soldier of the Polish army and the current Continental General for the Patriots in the South. Most importantly, a greedy schemer attempting to take General Washington’s place. And the man responsible for the burning of her village.

“You will learn soon enough what it means to submit,” he thinly grinned, taking a seat in the chair flush to the bed. It allowed him to lean back and stare down at her with foreboding amusement. “After all, this shall be an enlightening course in the magnificent rewards that come with your ultimate capitulation.”

Without warning, dexterous fingers unbuckled his belt and removed it from his trousers. Her expression slipped to annoyed, though it was gone in the matter of seconds. For she utterly refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. Even as she warily watched him bend it half. Clutching the loose ends on one hand, he caressed the folded end with his other. Ominously stroking it, one could almost call it an ardent fondling of the leather.

“As the Order has witnessed on multiple occasions,” he sighed, crossing his arms, “You have proven a ludicrously obstinate thorn in our side-”

“There lies  _no_ shame in that,” she taunted.

“No matter,” he sneered. Squaring this shoulders in his seat, he gripped the belt in a tight fist. “That shall all change tonight, I swear to it.”

The inexplicable crack of his belt across her breasts startled her more than the actual blow. Shrieking in disbelief, she juddered against her bindings. “What are you?!...How can you?!… _guh!”_ she grunted as his second smack. Though he didn’t use a full a full range motion or come close to breaking the skin and she remained in her chemise, it stung plenty enough to have her bowing at the impact.

“And so we begin with our first lesson,” he heartlessly smiled, crazed light seeming to settle in his gaze. “On how no poor deed ever goes  _unpunished.”_

The handful of his next lashes had her gritting her teeth and heaving for air. Each one also caused her to involuntarily drive her shoulders back, which only pitched her breasts up and into his swings. Alternately chewing on her lip and biting inside of her cheek, she willed herself to not cry out after the first strike. Even more maddening, he’d constantly stop after a few to softly trace her reddened skin with the edge of the belt. The rough slide of the leather against the seemingly endless tingling sensations shooting through her had her fighting to hold down a perplexed moan. Dipping lower, he’d draw dizzying patterns all along her torso that had her stomach fluttering.

Nonetheless, as soon as she let slip a discreet sigh of relief, the leather whipped at her breasts again. Searching for any means to suppress her reactions, she closed her eyes and wrapped her hands around the silk bounds of her wrists. It helped keep her movements to a minimum.

It made no sense; he could easily adjust the strength of his blows much higher to do her egregious harm. Cutting her to pieces and making her bleed would not be that difficult. He didn’t ask her any question of who she worked for. Nor anything of her recruits. No interrogations concerning her plans in New York. Or how she tracked Hickey and destroyed his counterfeiting ring in the matter of a few days. In fact, he hadn’t posed one question of the Assassins…

Charles arched an amused brow at how she twined her legs closed and began rubbing her thighs together with increasing consistency. Eyes alight with fiery desire, he stopped mid-swing, threw back his head and laughed. She shot him an infuriated expression as he then abruptly began trailing the folded edge of the belt down her stomach.

“It seems that the lady doth protest too much?” he slid the leather a few centimeters below the hem of her knickers.

“What place does Shakespeare have here?!” she sneered. Opening her eyes and looking over to take in his puzzled expression, she defiantly replied, “I  _am_ literate, you fool.”

“It would have to take a more than some savage to survive what you have done to Order,” Charles shrugged, rapidly recovering. “That does not detract from your increasing arousal,” her lightly snapped the belt across her bosom again.

“I will not deign such absurdity with an answer!” she panted.

“Deny this all you wish,” he casually said while sinuously sliding his other hand down her belly. Pausing at the hem of her knickers, he flashed her a grin before slipping beneath the thin material. The beginnings of her wetness meeting him, he smiled, “But you apparently find some aspect of this, well,  _stimulating.”_

“Go to hell!” she gnashed her teeth at him, cheeks burning nearly scarlet

“You first, sweetness,” he brought the leather down across her with a plumb crack. “Though I must say,” he continued as her body went taut and her head arched back with a distressed hiss, “I’m finding my current trip there worth every bit of alleged eternal damnation.” Without further ado, he cupped his hand over her cunt. Teasing her entrance with feather-light caresses, he began a gradual but incessant twisting of his fingers against her. It immediately started her uselessly rocking her hips away from him.

“I will…” she moaned out the words to her dumbfounded mortification as he experimentally sent a long, provocative stoke along her clit. “I will,” she breathlessly repeated, “Take you…with me! _”_  Another more insistent swirl against her swiftly followed. And then another. And yet another. Within but a few moments, he had an increasingly faster rhythm building along her sex. Left with no other option, a forceful pull at her binds sent the cot creaking and had her in a mad scramble for traction against the bed.

While his continued licks with the leather across her quaking breasts lessened, she was now obliged to deal with not only the sting of her increasingly sensitive skin, but also his unyielding manipulations across her clit. Rapidly blinking, holding in a shaking gasp with each of his strokes proved impossible now. Her resolve eroding, she spiraled closer and closer over the precipice of release. “B-by the g-gods!” she hitched, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Beginning to twitch against the cot, her hips were compelled to lurch upwards to meet his hand. However, he kept his touches tantalizingly faint. “I c-cannot,” she anxiously stammered, “I cannot!”

“You will receive all I grant you until  _I_ choose to end it at  _my_ leisure,” he swore, stopping his whips to lightly run the edge of the belt across her now delicate tits. He took a moment to savor how she jumped at the sensations. “Besides,” he threaded a rough hand in her hair and yanked her head back to meet the fevered azure of his eyes, “I need you nice and proper wet for the next step in your education.”

Leaning down, he harshly sucked her bottom lip in between his teeth while bringing down the belt yet again. Letting out a chortle at her faint yip, he unhanded her and tossed it away. Sliding her knickers down her wobbling legs, he hastily flung them to the floor as well.

“In fact,” Lee brightly declared, “We now arrive at our second lesson. This time, in how pain may easily lead pleasure. Should abandon yourself over to it, of course,” he smirked, divesting himself of his last piece of clothing, his breeches.

She swallowed, gaze narrowing at the sight of his thick arousal as he limberly climbed on the bed. Even only half-hard, its heavy, solid length caused her to cross her ankles and shuck her legs together. Seeing her stiffen, he proceeded to straddle her.

“Off!” she growled, prodding her hips in multiple directions in an ineffective effort to remove him. He simply outweighed and she was securely trussed.

 _“Patience,_ assassin!” he barked, expression blackening as he brought down the belt directly across the dark peaks of her breasts. It proved the hardest blow of all of them. Forcing out her strangled yelp, it left her squirming against the silk tied about her wrists. “You will have plenty of time to get well acquainted with my cock, I assure you,” he chuckled, temper reeling back to depraved delight. He then began to sweep his fingertips up and down her torso in vexingly ticklish, erratic circles. It wasn’t as though she was going anywhere anytime soon. So he could fully appreciate her infuriated writhing. Especially as his hands moved upwards to roughly knead her sensitive breasts.

“Cease this!” she scowled, curling her fingers around her bindings and scooting up the cot in futile escape. A beautiful flush of pink streamed from her cheeks and swept down her chest as he flicked her nipples with the calloused pads of his thumbs. “It is… _distressing!”_ she snorted with indignation.

“‘Tis the point,” he jeered, eyes burning sapphire with lurid exhilaration. It took a few hearty pulls, but he ripped apart her chemise down the middle. Tearing away the straps, he relieved her of it completely, the last piece of her livery.

“That required a very large amount of coin to purchase!” she snarled, rearing against him in frustration.

“I must concur that it was an unexpectedly expensive weave,” he leered down at her. “But I would say that it is the least your worries now. Don’t worry,” he carelessly tossed the chemise to the cell floor, “We’re only just getting started,” he hummed as he leaned down to capture a peaked nipple between hungry lips.

She could do nothing but sharply inhale at the sudden, wet warmth of his eager mouth enveloping her. At the same time, he dragged her thighs apart and positioned himself between them. However, rather than pounding into her, he stroked and grinded the head of his cock along her sex. Feeling her surge of damp arousal coat him as she instinctively bucked against him, he slicked it along himself before withdrawing to leisurely rut his stiff length between them against her thigh. A simple preview of what was to come before he claimed her fully.

The abrupt scrape of his stubble and mustache against her smarting breasts caused her to hiss. Sinking down into the mattress, she vainly attempted to get away from the prickling stimulation. But soon, the contrast of the sting from his earlier efforts with his belt and the cool lathes of his tongue had her bending up into his mouth for relief. Sucking at her breasts like a man starved, he alternated between vehement nips and slaking licks. Every so often, he’d bite down with scraping teeth. Never nearly enough to break the skin. Nonetheless, his marks bloomed across her dusky expanse like paint upon an exquisite canvas. The randomly sharp pressure caused her to jolt upwards every time, eyes widening and breath sputtering in bewilderment. Soon, the sound of her winded entreaties swirled about his ears in blessed melody. He didn’t bother suppressing a smile against her before lapping at the abused area with wriggling swirls. And then, he'd start it all over again.

He kept up his exertions until he felt her hips starting to undulate against him, despite her protests.  _Now,_ he had her.

Ravenously licking at her a final time, he moved to sit between her thighs again, only to glide two fingers into her cunt. Her astonished grunt at this new invasion met him as she squeezed her eyes shut. Chest heaving, her struggles shook the bedframe with the sash trussed around her wrists. Curving off the mattress, she tried to snap her thighs close against the friction. It only made him pin one of them to bed with an iron grip and piston into her faster.

“Come now, open your eyes, sweetness,” he coaxed with supposed concern, “I want to see you to witness it all when you fall apart beneath me! ”When she refused, he leaned down and gave her breast a hard, sloppy suckle to before lightly biting down. Her eyes snapping open, her dark, hazy gaze met him, her pupils blown. Face glistening with sweat, her lips were parted and panting.

“That’s it," Lee crooned, "Give yourself over,” he cajoled while adding his thumb to massage her clit. It caused her initial cry to spin out into a lurching whine. Frantically digging her heels into the mattress, her figure stretched with tension as she fruitlessly fought his onslaught. She uselessly tried kick his hand from where he spread her open and anchored her thigh to the bed.

"End t-this-!"

“ _Make_ me,” he smirked, fingers pumping ever faster. He watched with half-lidded fascination as she compulsively thrust her hips up to meet him. Meanwhile, he finally freed her thigh to begin stroking and tugging his thickening hardness. Sliding up and down himself in time with the flurry of his fingers within her, his cock twitched with the excitement at his latest rout of such a worthy adversary. "Yes," he bit at his lower lip at the sounds of her garbled pleas slipping into her native language, "Just like that!"

It was  _glorious._

“Cede yourself to me, assassin,” he commanded, greedily licking his lips. “Ah, yes _,_ ” he rumbled at the feel of her slick channel beginning to twitch, "See how you much you fancy this? How you can do naught but beg for it?"

“It…down there!” she gulped, clasping her thighs together and tits trembling in splendid rhythm as she twisted at her bonds, “I…you... _I_ _cannot-_ _!”_

“And there it is,” he sardonically grinned.

Finally withdrawing his hand, he wrenched her thighs apart. It now proved absurdity easy to draw her knees under his arms, hitch her thighs flush against his and then sink his cock deep into her. His heady groan mixed with her dazed squeals. Throwing back his head and closing his eyes, he reveled in the feel of her delightfully tight quim spasming around him.

A blur of color seemed to flash across her vision, the sound of the increasingly wild beat of her heart thrumming in her ears. Thighs twitching in his bruising grip, she flushed from top to toe. Her head lolled back as her mouth fell open, bursting with the rolling sounds of her language as she labored against her restraints. Unable to stop her quivering, she grinded her sex along his throbbing length until she bawled out her shuddering release.

Gritting his teeth with the effort to remain still, he rode out her uncontrolled flutters. The trembling seize of her hips took him in to near hilt, causing him to let out a gasping rumble of pleasure. Her husky exhalations interspersed with her throaty babbling only spurred him on. At the feel of himself tightening and racing towards his own peak, he bowed her lower back up off the mattress. The bed squeaking and scraping along the stone floor, he roughly fucked her in a mad frenzy of dominance. He relentlessly sheathed himself in and out of her delicious tightness. The thrust of his hips bucking against hers had her begging out desperate pleas. His fingers fell to her clit again, dancing along the slick the center of her in time to his drives. How much time passed, neither knew.

Without warning, the coiling heat in her belly snapped and she seized around his thick length again. Her hips madly jerked upwards as her shaking cries swirled around him. He pulled out only to spend himself upon her belly with a hoarse howl. Massaging his cock through its final jerks, he bonelessly fell back to the bottom of the cot with a loud, contented sigh.

Chest heaving, he allowed himself a brief respite. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, slowing his shaky breathing and coming down from the euphoria flooding his veins. After running a hand through his dark locks, he rested his arms along the back of the footboard. At the same time, the stuttering noises of her catching her breath washed over his ears with satisfying indulgence.

A few minutes later, he slid from the bed and wandered over the table in the corner of the cell. Returning with a bowl of water and a handkerchief, he knelt down and cleaned her stomach of him. Ignoring her flinty stare and how she wrung away from him, his bizarrely gentle sweeps then worked their way down her thighs. While he wiped in between them, it was done with cursory efficiency.

“Now see, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” he drawled, rising to his feet and retreating to the table. Pouring a wood cup full of water from pitcher, he moved back to her. “Drink,” he ordered, tipping it to her lips.

Turning her cheek away, she silently refused.

“Come now,” he cooed. “You need your strength.”

Staring at him for a long while, she curled her lip with derision. Nevertheless, she slowly tilted her chin back and allowed him pour the water into her mouth. Actually allowing her drink at a reasonable pace, he didn’t force back her head. Nor did he pinch her nose to make her choke it down. While she contemplated spitting it back into his face, he had a point; the water cold and fresh, it tasted nothing like the potentially cholera-laced swill they supplied her with since her arrest. So she swallowed it down.

“See?” he shrugged with a grin, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed, “All better.”

Except her vision started inexplicably spinning. Her heartbeat echoing in her ears, the sound crescendoed into a dull roar. Without warning, she slumped to her side. Her cheek hit the cot just short of the wall. Vainly attempting to roll back to her back, she simply went limp.

"Sleep assassin." The last thing she felt was him running a light finger down her cheek. “We don’t wish you exhausting yourself quite yet,” he breezily said from above, “For I need you  _very_ well rested for our third and final lesson of the night.”

Slowly blinking, she attempted to hurl back an insult at him. Unfortunately, her mind stumbled over the words, refusing to cooperate with her voice.

With that, the darkness took her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same trigger warnings, especially breathplay. And Charles topping Connor.

How long she slept, she did not know. Only that the relief of the darkness was thoroughly ruined by his scornful voice jolting her awake. Well, that and the fact that her wrists remained securely attached to the rail of the headboard in the same fashion as before. 

The grogginess still clouding her mind allowed his hands to snap to her hips unimpeded. Manhandling her to lie on her front, he flipped her over from her back. “On your knees, assassin!” he sneered, the accompanying snap of his belt connecting with her shoulder blades. "Surely you do not think I have tired of you already, eh?” An infuriated snort of surprise falling from her lips at the tingling strike, she vainly attempted to twist out of his grip. She relished his grunt of pain as her foot connected with his stomach. But regardless of her scrabbling forward, he was upon her again. Throwing his full weight on top of her sent her crashing back down to the cot. Splayed out, she was held captive beneath his smothering bulk.  
  
After a long while, he retreated and roughly hauled her to her knees. Leaning over her, he brushed the hair from the back of her neck. The press of his mouth to its base immediately caused her to freeze. Disconcertingly, rather than a vicious bite, he fluttered a handful of kisses along her glistening skin while groping a hand up her side. “Perhaps I have made a mistake in my treatment of you,” he thoughtfully declared.  
  
Exhaling in disbelief, she futilely attempted to shove him off as she sarcastically retorted, “You do not say?!”  
  
“Ah, this is a first,” his other hand dipped lower to caress her behind with suspiciously soft strokes. Despite bracing for it, no strike met her. “It seems that for once, we agree on something.  
  
Unexpectedly retreating off the bed, he ventured over to the table in the corner of the cell. Locating the small vial out the inner pocket of his waistcoat was simple, as he brought it for this specific purpose. Getting back on the cot and retaking his position over her kneeled form, he popped its cork. Pouring a healthy bit of its oil on his fingers, he enjoyed her tremor at the unfamiliar sensation of more of it being smoothly rubbed on her behind.  
  
“I have made no such pact- _hnnnggggg!”_  she wheezed, eyes snapping wide and bucking in shock at the feel of his slick finger suddenly pressing into her bottom. “H-halt this! What are you-?!” she bellowed, scraping her knees along the cot to pull herself forward and away from his attentions. It only made him soundly spank her bottom with his other hand before winding an arm around her thighs. Trapping her against him, he resumed his motions.  
  
“You agree with me that you are no ordinary woman, yes?” he smugly smiled while drawing himself back to sit on his knees. It bought her no relief, for he’d slipped well past her ring of resistance. As he slowly began twisting in and out of her tight opening, her stuttering jerks in a vain effort to escape the throbbing unease had the cot squeaking into the cell wall. Chuckling with dark amusement, Charles hummed, “Anyone can see that prefer male livery. You fight like a man. You lead your little gang of miscreants against us like a man. You murder and maim like man. Perhaps,” he sighed with mocking disappointment, “I should just go ahead and  _fuck_  you like a man.”  
  
Swallowing down an indignant groan, she hoarsely snapped, “Why do you insist in speaking in riddles, Templar?”  
  
“Oh, it is no mystery, girl.” Gliding a finger out only to replace it with two twining within her, he harshly kneaded her firm behind where he’d smacked it. She winced, her back fitfully curving as she heaved against the ties of her wrists.  
  
“Tell me Connor-”  
  
“Tell. You.  _What?!”_  she grit.  
  
“Has a man ever taken your arse with his cock, dearest?”  
  
That certainly sent her fumbling away from him. Rocking forward, her furious outburst of kicks nearly sent him to the floor. But he was ready for her this time.  
  
Without warning, a sleek yet constricting bind snatched at her neck. For his white cravat he’d earlier set aside was now looped about her throat. All too familiar with garrotes and their deadly ilk, she froze at the perilous sensation. “A simple reminder of who remains in control during this latest lesson,” his heated words danced along her ear. “As you will soon find out, my silk cravat serves a multitude of purposes,” he lightly nibbled at her neck, right above his makeshift lariat around her. “Spun of the finest threads of the Orient, its weave has proven most,” he tugged at it, forcing her to crane her head back for a few seconds, "Sturdy,” he enthusiastically professed.  
  
Snarling, she hissed, “If you wished me dead-”  
  
“I would have killed you already,” he blandly replied. “Aye, you and I are well aware of this. But sometimes, well, I find my temper getting away from me. A particularly troublesome shortcoming, I must admit. And we wouldn't want to have any mishaps on account of that, see?”  
  
A whirl of his hand had the cravat’s loose end lightly wrapped around his knuckles. Combined with his easy jerk backward, its complicated knot effortlessly slid tighter around her throat. Now, she really did find herself breathless. Hearing the sounds straining past her lips and coming out in wondrous little hitches sent his arousal coursing through his blood even more. Purposely waiting a few seconds to give her a taste of proper dominance, he finally slackened his hold. Of course, she couldn’t use her bound hands to stop him. So she fell forward, gaze widening as she let out a rattling, unimpeded breath.  
  
“Don’t worry, my extensive familiarity with such practices will not result in me snapping your lovely neck,” he murmured. It was easy to see her shoulders relax a bit. Which made his next words all the more gratifying as he continued, “But should you attempt to murder me?  _“This,”_ he drew the silk in hard warning enough for her to give a strangled gurgle, “Will occur.”  
  
“You lack all in the way of honor,” she hoarsely accused, swaying back to her knees.  
  
“Should it come to that, take comfort that it won’t be all bad for you,” he breezily added. “They say when the head and lungs are robbed of air, it makes the orgasm that much more vigorous. And so you shall spend your last throes upon this earth in utter ecstasy. Now,” he dropped the end of it. “In the meantime, back to our previous diversions,” he brusquely drew her legs apart while kneeling behind her again.  
  
“You are wholly, insanely  _depraved!”_  she roughly growled at the feel of fresh oil trailing down her thighs.  
  
“And you are wholly naïve,” he grinned.  
  
The cold slip of oil rolling along her resulted in her flushing nearly scarlet. Her mortification making him grin, he slowly sunk both fingers back in to scissor within her. At the same time, one oiled hand began leisurely fisting himself to straining hardness. The intermittent sounds of her tense huffs and the feel of her quivering tightness had him snorting in anticipation. All the while, he never ceased his rolling drives into her behind. Every few glides, he purposely slipped along her cunt and manipulated her clit, compelling her to grind out labored moan. Hearing her brought to heel by his motions had his cock twitching. Slowly but surely, she opened to him.  
  
He abruptly stopped, withdrawing from her. Hearing a shift of the blankets, she craned her head to find him sitting on his knees. The feel of his hands gripping her waist and his thighs flush against her bottom caused her to stiffen. Especially at the feel of his heavy length teasing her entrance.  
  
Bracing himself above her, he smirked, “Alas, I shall not lie and say this will be particularly comfortable for you.”  
  
It was all but impossible to swallow down her shriek as the thick head of his hard cock pushed into her bottom. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clutched at the sash bound around her wrists for deliverance, her breath coming in jolting short spurts. Pausing for a moment, he attempted to press forward. But despite his shallow thrusts, she still remained stubbornly rigid. Running a hand up her spine, his sudden, merciless twisting at the dusky tips of her breasts sent her squawking in protest.  
  
“Cease your infernal struggles, woman!” he furiously commanded behind her, “Or I shall take my belt your cunt with such savagery that you will be _begging_ me to take you in your arse instead. And that shall be after I shove my cock down that lovely throat of yours!"  
  
“Too…big!” she pitched under him as he spread her thighs apart. “You…it is…too much!”  
  
“So I am often told,” he leered, latching onto her waist again.  
  
A pleased curse fell from his lips as he continued squeezing himself forward. Upon finally sinking into her to near hilt, she fitfully stuttered out some garbling thing in her language. The muscles of her arms flexed in distress as she wound her hands around the binding of her wrists to pull from him.

“I see my little assassin loves my cock in her arse?” Charles grunted while draping himself over her back and sucking at the delicate shell of her ear. Deliberately pulling back, he grabbed the metal bar of the headboard her wrists were bound to with one hand for leverage. It allowed him to thrust himself slightly faster with each added stroke. Her hitched whine and struggling earned her his other fingers digging into her hip. "I know I certainly do, considering how deliciously tight," he panted and pressed his thighs to her, deepening his drives, "That lovely bum of your feels around me." Rolling her shoulders and lurching her head from him, she cursed, wrestling to stay aloft under his onslaught. “Now, you have my permission to fight me all you wish,” he bit a mark into her skin before swirling his tongue along the spot in cold comfort, “For it only inflames me further.”

Scraping eager teeth against her pulse point, he smiled against her sweaty skin as she haphazardly shuddered and bucked beneath him. Particularly as he again slowly withdrew only to propel back into her. But her yelp was summarily followed by a sporadic groan when his dexterous fingers slid around her thigh. Falling to her clit, he relentlessly stroked her. Not out of generosity, of course. Rather, it thoroughly overrode any further attempts to push him out. Causing her to loosen under his touch, it allowed his measured drives to plunder her arse harder and faster.  
  
Still, the chit kept up her belligerent struggles. A blessing, for she didn’t seem to believe that all of her rearing and shoving back against him made this conquest that more thrilling. While he undeniably reveled in her ceaseless writhing, too much impertinence was rewarded with him letting go of the bar to yank a swift jerk of his cravat against her throat. It caused her to rasp, mouth snapping open in a labored attempt to get air back into her lungs. "Jesus...fuck me just  _like that,_  darling,” he jeered into her ear, tightening the fabric for a long tick and relishing her vain battle before slackening it. After all, he didn’t wish to prematurely end their fun. Not quite yet. “Keep up your futile exertions. It only makes me try to shatter your resolve that. Much.  _Harder,”_  he growled in between each increasingly punishing drive.

"Y-you,” she sneered, squeezing her eyes shut and squirming back against him, “You… _will not_ …undo me!”  
  
“You will soon see that achieving release is that much easier a second time,” he cruelly smiled, palming her behind with ironically delicate fingers. “Reducing you to your proper station is my highest priority, after all.”  
  
Even after that, much like a stallion in the midst of being broken, she constantly started up her vain efforts of resistance. Either by squaring her shoulders and tensing into a vigorous ram upwards. Or wrenching at her tied wrists and scrabbling for purchase on her knees with enough force to start the cot creaking along the floor. Only when she teetered too close to victory did he yank at the silk along her neck and slide his fingers back into her cunt. While the continuous stimulation would normally leave her panting, combined with the restriction of air, he was constantly rewarded with her shivering little heaves. After a few seconds of feeling her gloriously thrash and sputter under him, he’d drop the tie and move back to holding her to him by the waist to take his cock into her almost impossibly snug channel.  
  
Soon, he had cycle of defiance and dominance playing out in magnificent repetition. For once, her sheer obstinacy held some value. In fact, it shortly had her gasping more in her native language than English. Yet it never rose above anything louder than a low mumble.  
  
“Funny that,” Charles smirked before sinking his teeth into her shoulder. As it caused her let out a startled grunt, he chuckled, “When I fuck your father, he proves far more vocal. As he so willingly takes it, there is rarely the need to bind him. Unless he’s feeling particularly frisky.” In reply, her surprisingly colorful curse of disgust trilled in his ears.  
  
Hmph. What better way to repay such insolence than by pulling out nearly all the way, only to abruptly surge his swelled length back into her? To the base of his cock, no less.  
  
The jarring motion sent her seizing around him with exquisite tautness. Finally giving out a hitched, drained wail, it was like music to his ears. If not for his arm clasped around her waist, she would have collapsed to the cot. So he trapped his heavy thighs on either side of hers and jerked the cravat backwards. The precipitous pressure on her neck combined with tension of her roped wrists extended out before her forced her to arch her back. Head craned towards the ceiling to breath, her body curved like a sinuously tensed bow under him as she began compulsively meeting his deep, rough thrusts. The renewed sounds of her increasingly constrained breaths combined with a moan ripped from her whenever he gifted her with slicking through her folds had him practically spilling into her.  
  
Not yet, though. She would have to lose control first. He’d sworn such an oath to himself upon her receiving word of her arrest. That one way or another, he'd have her begging for release, only to fall apart beneath him with his cock taking her over and over again.  
  
Like all men of honor, he always insisted on keeping his promises.  
  
_“Please,”_  she stammered, fingers frantically clutching at her bonds.  
  
“Please what, pet?” he leered, rocking into her without pause while keeping his cravat clutched in his hand.  
  
“Y-you…I…I need...you will m-make me,” she brokenly pled, heaving up against his chest as devilish fingers teasingly rolled against her clit once again.  
  
“Make you beg for it?” he snarled, leaning over her to better pour his promises into her flushed ear. His black hair messily loosened from its ribbon, it sinuously brushed across her shoulders. “Make you plead for your release as I fuck you senseless, hmm?" he savagely hissed. "Make your firm arse milk my cock of every drop?” he spanked her bottom with each merciless thrust. Met by her yelps and rasping jut forward, he ran his other hand up her side to stroke and fondle her breasts. 

It all played out in such superb reality, so much better than he could ever imagine. And Charles was man of so  _many_ depraved fancies, as she would find out in the coming hours.

"Christ, you're so wet for me," he goaded, pressing his fingers into her to curl at that sweet little spot within that promptly had her keening and squeezing her eyes shut against the onslaught, "That's it, come for me, wench. Howl your wretched release to the heavens again!"  
  
For once, she did as commanded, with a guttural, choked cry. Left with no choice but to fuck herself into his palm, she trembled and shuddered beneath him. When she shakily huffed to catch her breath, he took the opportunity of her distraction to bury himself in her with a warbling moan. It ripped another shriek from her, her head thrown back to the sky. The uncontrollable bucking of her hips skimmed against his thighs, nearly causing him lose himself right then and there.  
  
"Such ferocious disobedience from you finally brought heel shall be a tale for the ages, dearest!" he breathlessly laughed at her mewling yelps. He then purposely pressed his chest rigid to her back to grind his hips into her. The splendid twitches of her losing battle to stay propped up on her wobbling knees under his superior weight soon had him licking and biting at her shoulders with ravenous zeal.  
  
This, oh  _this_  was what he craved. Her total surrender to his whims. The annexation of control from this troublesome upstart who cost him and his brethren far too much. And now, her submission lay presented so unimpeded before him.  
  
Unable to suppress a weary gasp, she slumped forward on her haunches, causing him to slide out of her. The firm muscles of her back spasmed with an attempt to catch her ragged breath. Pressing her cheek into the stark comfort of cot, she weakly curled her fingers around her sash binding her wrists. She didn’t resist as her heavy eyelids shut out the dim light.  
  
Withdrawing dewy fingers from her folds and sitting back on his heels, he snatched the belt from where it hung on the bedframe behind him. "I realize that some call it  _‘La petite mort,’_  or ‘the little death,’ sweetness,” he simpered, briefly caressing her spine with its folded curve. He adored the way she tensed at the contact, the air vibrating with trepidation. “But you are ever so young and hale. Surely, you’re not already calling it a night?”  
  
He hastily brought the leather down across her shoulders with gleeful aplomb. “I am afraid,” he rained another blow on her, her indignant shout muffed against the sheets. “That you,” the belt cracked across her again, this time licking at her behind. “Are in no position,” it smacked against her lower back, sending her rocking upwards with a flabbergasted yell. “To do such,” he finished with another swat of leather across her bottom.  
  
He utterly relished the way she yipped and lurched back into him. His feverish eyes taking in how her skin flushed pink at the points of the leather connecting with her, he leaned forward to lathe his tongue along her tingling flesh. The contrast between the proverbial fire of his strikes and the ice of his mouth had her instinctively arching away from his attentions. Her accompanying, frayed moans and desperate yanks at her bindings earned her a few more stripes before he flung the belt away and clutched her by the waist to tow her back up to her knees. Slicking some of her wetness and a bit more oil along his cock, he kneed her thighs apart. Sinking back into her bottom with deliberate leisure, it ensured she felt every inch of his arousal.  
  
Eyes fluttering closed at the trill of her fresh cries, he was soon pushing into her with a barrage of renewed determination. “Yes! Just like that,” he huffed out a pleased, breathy smirk at how her yowling rose in tandem with each of his thrusts.  _“Take it,”_ he grit, gripping his hands to her shoulders and continuing his fierce drives. The sweat of his debauched efforts fell from the corded muscle of his neck, rolling down his straining chest and to her glistening back. “Take it like…ah,  _fuuuuck,”_ he babbled, stilling as she convulsed under him for a few, brilliant moments, her tightness clenching at his cock. “Take it…yes…take it like a man, sweetness!”  
  
Now, all that mattered was his nearing release. One hand skimmed downward to slide his fingers back into her cunt. Beginning to piston in and out of her wetness, he fisted his other hand back around the loose end his cravat again. Winding it around his knuckles to take up most of its loose length, it allowed him to wrench the silk to her throat. It left her the barest sliver of tension. As she threw her head back to relieve some of the burden, her delicious, stunned wheeze met him. At the same time, he lugged her back as close to the foot of the cot as possible. Stretching out her bound wrists and arms in front of her to the limit of the tie’s slack, it made it impossible for her to use the bed to support the bulk of her weight. Now, he controlled the slip and bind of the silk with no discernible pattern to his madness. All while driving her into coming again and pushing her to the edge of consciousness.  
  
“What say you now, assassin?” he taunted. Rendered speechless, she was obliged to concentrate all of her exertions on keeping her balance on her knees and not passing out. “Silence then, eh?” he leaned forward to plant a disturbingly tender kiss behind her ear. “Aye, I thought this would prove a rather sufficient method to quiet you,” he viciously smiled.  
  
The ceaseless creak of the cot rhythmically banged into the wall as he hammered into her with wild abandon. Illuminated in the pale orange, flickering flames of the fire in the grate, her supple, perspiring body heaved beneath him. Combined with the timorous quake of her taking his length deep, rough and hard, his grunts quickly rose to a pitched howl. It all blended in lyrical rhythm with her strangled, desperate panting. 

He let out a crazed laugh as she started to wildly quake in the throes of her impeding peak. Tightening his cravat to the limit, he reveled in her long, choked gasp. Her cunt clutched at his fingers as her ass bucked on his cock. Combined with her breath stuttering out in wheezing release and her body straining with trembling effort, it proved the victory he sought. Pulling his hand away from her sex, he finally loosened the silk about her throat. Gripping her thigh in anchor, he fucked he through the shivering orgasm he'd wrung from her. 

He twitched with the stirs of thrilling triumph as he ruthlessly stroked into her to the base of his cock with each deliberate drive; she belonged to him now, her senses dangling precariously in his hands. Witnessing her so completely at his mercy, his heartbeat roared in his ears as with a final, full thrust, he spilled into her. Sight and sound seemed to thrum around him as his gravelly yell of release echoed off the stone.

Dropping his cravat, he collapsed with a sated, throaty moan on top of her. A sweaty heap of limps, they both found themselves rendered immobile. How long it took her breathing to return to normal, he didn't know. Or frankly, care. All that mattered was the bewitching taste of power he’d just gorged himself on. And by God, there would be many more to come with this new endeavor. For training her would surely prove most exhilarating.  
  
Softening, he slipped out of her twitching depths, giving her neck a possessive, nipping kiss before he moved to his feet. Laying haphazardly on the cot, save her shallow puffs, for the first time since their encounter, she remained utterly silent. Well, at least he could confirm that she was capable of learning all sorts of titillating lessons.  
  
Humming a jolly little tune, he cleaned himself up with his handkerchief. After dressing, he ran an indulgent caress down her back, enjoying her jolt of acknowledgement. He stopped just short of her bottom before maliciously whispering into her ear, “I never would have thought it possible to pull such an extraordinary performance from you. Now don’t go anywhere, as the night is still young.” With a put-upon sigh, he chuckled, "Trust me when I say that we’re just getting started, pet.” Wandering out of the cell, he slammed the door shut behind him.  
  
The sound of wood scraping against metal still echoing in the air, Connor jerked her head off the mattress. Flinching at the throbbing twinges circling her neck, she waiting a few more seconds. Hearing nothing, she willed herself to ignore the pulsing aches mapped along her body in order to twist her wrists with a decisive jolt. Her teeth biting down her lower lip, she ignored the tang of iron in her mouth as she gave one last heave. It was surprisingly easy to take no heed of the flash of pain that zipped up the middle finger of her left hand. Especially as the red slash finally slipped out of its last knot. After all, a dislocated digit was a small price to pay for freedom. Particularly as she struggled to sway to her feet and survey the cell.  
  
Leave it up to Lee to leave his dagger, sheathed sword belt and holstered pistol within his baldric sitting on the table in the far corner of the room…


End file.
